JxHQ: The Day It All Changed
by MetallicJester
Summary: One shot about the Dr Harleen Quinzel before her tumble into madness. Just a chapter about a day in her life and session with the Joker that goes wrong.


The car came to a halt as I parked it into an empty space. The engine's growling subsided as I removed the keys, and replaced them in the pocket of my lilac blouse. I slammed the door shut after me, locking it, and started on the grim walk to the metal gates.

They were tall, impressive, decades old black paint peeling off in thin strips, revealing the cold iron they were made of beneath. Atop of them sat iron letters, shaped almost cruelly to read 'ARKHAM'. A smaller gate to the right of them swung open, as a guard beside the gates recognised me. I didn't take the time to remember everyone's names, but I was able to recall that this particular guard's name was Craig; he was awfully young, attracted to Arkham by the decent salary for someone without qualifications. I remembered him because I pitied him.

The path up to the entrance was short, and I couldn't help noticing the large amount of guards stationed outside the building. All holding guns and tasers in plain sight.

Quickly, I adjusted my glasses and smoothed back my hair. I had this whole walk and routine burned into my head. I'd been here three, almost four, months, but from day one I'd known that one wrong look, could get me in bad news with the inmates. And even worse with my fellow staff.

I showed the guards my ID at the sealed metal doors of the entrance, and one nodded and the doors slowly were pulled open. Unlike the gates, above the doors was an engraved sign that read 'Arkham Asylum, Home To The Mentally Insane. Since 1921'.

Home? I scoffed, the pearliness of the establishment was a choice by Warden Glenn, who was always trying to portray Arkham as a safe, pleasant business just wanting the best for the patients. As I had come to find out there was a lack of funding, and this was just another ploy for the government to give them more.

I expected a little warmth inside the asylum compared to the winds outside, but I got none. I could feel the cold stone floors from through my small black pumps. Goosebumps formed on my arms and I failed in quickly trying to hide them.

Arkham wasn't really the place to be making friends, so I didn't have any to go get a morning coffee with. Nevertheless I made my way to the canteen, my small heels tapping against the concrete floor; I felt the heat of eyes on me and the burning of my ears as I walked past a group of female coworkers. They threw shots at me and I pretended not to notice any of them. I was aware of the reputation I had, one that had somehow carried all the way from college. I didn't need to encourage that self hating part of me by listening to rumours.

Leaving with a cup of black coffee I continued through the wide main corridor that held the more low key patients, and up a flight of stairs. My office was the third door on the right, the name Dr H. Quinzel in gold plating on the door frame. Unusually swanky for a place as broke as Arkham. I tossed my bag onto the chair behind the desk and stopped walking when I got to the mirror. God I looked bad. Small tired circles under my eyes choked with concealer, at my attempt to make me look living. Black liner circling my eyelids, which in turn actually brightened my bright blue eyes. I hid that with my thick black rimmed glasses. My bleached blonde hair looked tatty with dark brunette roots creeping in at several places; I had earlier clamped in back in a bun, letting a few strands drop over my face. My face in particular looked pale and lifeless, and white washed, like all the colour apart from the purple under my eyes, had been drained out.

"Helloooo, Harleen." I remarked sarcastically to my reflection, before shaking my head and turning back to my desk.

I glugged my cup of coffee and sighed. Thankfully my schedule today was fairly clear, I was supposed to have another session with a patient Pamela Isley at 11, but according to an urgent email I had received from Dr Leland - the head doctor - she had committed "plant-based offences" and was now confined to solitary.

Now all that remained was the big bad of all them all - a 3pm session with the Joker. I'd practically begged Dr Leland for a chance to be his doctor, mostly because I'd wanted to write a book but that idea had fallen apart when I realised that no one has written a book on the man and gotten to receive the royalties before he payed them a personal visit. Leland finally gave in when she was informed by the higher ups that they'd ran out of lambs to throw into his den.

I'd arrived at work earlier than I was needed, and so I sat down at my computer to type up notes from my latest session with one of my four patients.

At 2:45pm my alarm rang, breaking out of my work-induced stupor and I grimaced as I switched it off. It didn't take fifteen minutes to walk to the interview room but I was thankful to be early so I could whisk up an air of professionalism.

The guards gave me nothing but a nod in response to my friendly smile, but I carried on and swiped my keycard for Level 4 access. This level, otherwise known as maximum security, was saved only for criminally insane meta-humans, and the completely bonkers mass murderers. Of course I wouldn't call them that to their face, or faces in Harvey Dent's case.

The other levels, especially Level 3, were loud and grating as you walked through them, with inmates from all sides screaming bloody murder at you. This level on the other hand was much more reserved, not quiet as some of the patients sang or talked to themselves, but the majority kept to themselves and got on with behaviour one might class as quite sane.

I stopped outside of cell 1184 where two burly male orderlies were already waiting. One smiled at me, the other looked indifferent.

"Sorry if I'm early, but I'm here for a session with my patient?" I stated clearly, keeping my voice light as not to upset the patients in the next cells.

The smily one nodded. "You're right on time, Miss Quinzel." he responded. His name tag read Kim.

I tried to hide my grimace. "Dr Quinzel." I corrected, standing up straighter. "Now would you be able to get my patient ready to move? We'll just be in Interview Room 5 so I don't believe a gurney will be necessary."

The first one's smile faltered, whilst they both stood aside to let me scan my keycard. Guards and orderlies didn't carry one due to the ease of them being bribed to let patients go free, instead only the doctors and high up nurses had access to them.

The glass door opened and my eyes raised from the card slot to meet bright green eyes staring back at me. They were calculating and often followed with a large grin, which he now flashed at me.

"Good afternoon, Mr Joker." I greeted, a big yet professional smile on my lips.

He was sat on his bed, and now stretched out and kicked his legs behind him as if he was a teenage girl. I couldn't help but grin at him, and I had to stop myself before I started looking like a total fool.

The two orderlies burst into the cell waving their batons, and signalling him to get up and turn around. His rather bare lips fell into a snarl, and locks of green hair fell around his face as he turned and offered up his hands. He'd been incarcerated longer than usual and so his hair was started to get quite shaggy, in a way that I could see peeved him. Maybe I could help him out by cutting it for him - purely in a therapeutic sort of way.

They cuffed his hands behind his back - not in front as before he'd used that position to choke out a guard with the chain - and each orderly took a spot on each arm, practically dragging him across the floor.

I walked in front to Interview Room 5, which conveniently only around the corner still in Level 4, as the Warden didn't want the Joker to ever leave that godforsaken level. Managing to control the urge to look back at him we finally reached the room, and I stood aside to let the orderlies do their work. Guards helped secure the patient to the metal table in the middle of the cold room, which was also fixed to the floor, much like the two metal chairs on either side of it. It seemed ridiculous to watch around five strong men sit a long, lanky man in a chair, but I had to bring myself back and remember what this man had actually done, and what he was capable of doing if he got out. I hmphed.

Eventually they finished and the men left the room. I was given the usual speech of how there was a panic button under the table on my side, and there would always be guards by the door to come in if I was to use it. I dismissed them with a positive reply and entered the white tile room.

As soon as I was in far enough, the door was closed and secured behind me; God knows why but they did that with every door. Probably stopped the patient escaping if they did successfully brutalise the doctor, not that that was what I needed to think of right now.

The Joker's eyes were fixed on me. Trying not to look too nervous nor make too much eye contact, I closed the close distance to my allocated chair, and sat down politely.

I pressed the tape recorder in my pocket, and sat up straight. He seemed to wait for me to begin.

"Dr Quinzel, Session 007 with Patient 1184, otherwise stated as the Joker. Date: November 4th, 3:02pm." I called to the recording device, keeping the native drawl out of my voice a technique my mother had taught me to make me appear more intelligent.

He snickered, clinking about his chained hands that were now cuffed in front of him and attached to a rung on the table. "Harleyyyy, it seems I haven't seen you in forever! You really should have visited me more when I was in the cage." he put forth playfully, letting his eyes roll up me.

I tried not to look so uptight. "You were in solitary, I don't think it would have been a good idea for me to come see you - solitary was an apt punishment." I responded. He'd been locked in solitary in what the patients liked to refer to as 'the cage', a small dark room, with a metal barred door blocking the exit instead of bulletproof glass like the normal cells.

He kissed his teeth. "Well with you there, it would have made it all the more bearable. Even maniacs get lonely, y'know?" he asked, rhetorically.

I chewed my lip. "I wouldn't really call you a maniac..." I started.

He cut my trailing off. "Then what would you call me, Harley-kins?"

My brow furrowed. "I've told you before not to call me pet names, my name is Dr Quinzel and you shall refer to me as such."

His smile also fell, but into a more dangerous expression. "It would be unwise to be skipping over questions with me, Doc-tor." He cut the title apart into two clear syllables, the click of his tongue like a knife.

I paused, debated whether I actually wanted to get into an argument with a man like this. "I'd call you a victim of mental unwellness, and most of all a system that supports the bullying of a guy in a bat costume."

The corner of his mouth drew up. "You don't think it's my fault that I kill people?"

I bit my lip. "I mean... of course you have some choice in it but I just think-"

"Victim is a very emasculating word, you know that? It's as if you're painting me out to be a child trapped in the middle of an unhappy marriage!" He sung the words after child, playing up to dramatics and showing mock sadness as he held up the back of his hand to his face.

"I have a feeling you wouldn't have agreed with anything I'd said." I took my glasses off and rubbed the bridge of my nose.

He chuckled, setting back into his calmer side. "You're absolutely right. I just like playing with you, kid."

I avoided squabbling over the demeaning nature of calling me kid, and carried on with the conversation like I hadn't heard it. "So today I'd like to finally touch on the subject that I feel most affects your mental recovery - Batman."

I noticed him stiffen at the name; maybe this wasn't such as great idea. Nevertheless the Warden had been on my back about asking him about Batman and so I had to do it sooner or later.

"What about him?" The man spoke through gritted teeth, and I could tell this is why no one had lived to pass on a successful answer. Maybe that's why Warden Glenn was on at me to ask him, she was trying to get me bumped off.

I tried to keep cool but ended up letting out a short nervous laugh. "Anything you want, I think it's best to start where you feel is key to you as I don't think I'd understand if you just stated answers."

There was a flick of the mouth again as I stroked his ego, but he finally gave a reply. "Batsy, well... he's the yin to my yang, if you can comprehend that. The water to my fire; the Starsky to my Hutch; the Chewbacca to my Han Solo - ha! It's like that thought: is good really good if there's no evil around to oppose it?"

My mouth was falling a little agape so I was sure to close it. The way he spoke, even if it was about something so tedious in other people's mouths, was truly fascinating in his. I hadn't told anyone this, but I'd found myself losing interest in my other patients just because of how mediocre they were compared to him. Pamela came close, but I still wasn't convinced she wouldn't kill me if I met her on the outside.

"Why do you want to kill him if you feel he's your complete opposite? Won't it make your crimes pointless if he's not there to oppose you, as you say?" I adjusted my glasses and took notes on the small pad I always kept in my doctor's coat pocket.

He let out a loud and sudden laugh. "Kill him? Who said I was trying to kill him? We're in a deadly battle where someone will eventually die, but each of us are prolonging it. If I wanted him dead I would have just shot him in the head by now.

"Interesting. Then what roles do the other members of the Bat-family play?" I was of course referencing the several Robins and Batgirls which had been beside Batman in different ways. Some of which my patient had maimed or even killed.

The man almost growled. "They... oh they are worthless parts of the game. Bats is tipping the scale with them and it almost offends me, just think, he's dragging children into a game of life and death! It taints his goodness, and so I see I'm doing him a service by getting rid of the little brats. I'm just trying to get things back to how they were, when it was just a simple game of balance."

I heard the words, but they cut right through me. It felt funny to say but he was right - Batman was committing an evil by bringing children or very young adults into a game where they could only ever lose. As a psychologist I could interpret that he likes his accomplices young so he can bend them to see what he sees, mould them into a weapon he can use instead of a poor child who hadn't figured everything they wanted out of life. I'd read the police reports - the Robin Jason Todd was supposedly thirteen when he was reported beaten to death.

"I see, so you're alone in the game as respect to Batman?"

He chuckled. "Yes, see I know Bats has his little 'no kill rule', so I don't have any sidekicks so he doesn't feel obliged to get rid of them. No one should be standing in the way of the two of us."

I had to stop the cheesy grin trying to form on my face as I realised it sounded like a romance novel. Two lovers destined to be with each other but held apart by obstacles which they have to get rid of...

My thoughts were soon cut off by his next point.

"...though I wouldn't be complaining if I had a sidekick like you."

My cheeks immediately burned red, and I held a hand to my face to cover one, however my eyes remained wide and twitching. "Err... erm... that's very sweet of you, but I'm your doctor not a criminal." My response was far too quick, and I hated myself for it.

He leaned forward and raised an eyebrow. "Of course, silly me. Continue, Quinzel." My blue eyes met his for a moment and it was a struggle to move away as he bowed his dark eyelashes.

I stammered, but cleared my throat and continued. "So... if you feel Batman needs you and you need him, do you understand why people may think there's romantic or even sexual feelings between-"

I wasn't even allowed to finish before he darted forward, the chains making a sudden clang against the table. He couldn't actually get to me but the jump scared me and my body pressed all the way back against the fixed chair.

The laugh that bubbles from his throat was low and cruel, and he tipped his head down so he could look up at me through his eyelashes.

"Why does everyone have to make that assumption?" he started, his teeth baring. "Of course I don't love Batman. How silly I was to think that you would understand."

My lip trembled and I was about to call the session to an end, before I heard a very loud, distinct siren playing from just outside. Eyes widening, my hands gripped the notepad until my knuckles turned white. The lockdown alarm, only sounded when one or more patients were escaping. From the yells that now echoed down the corridors, it sounded as if all hell had broken loose.

The Joker began to laugh and slapping his knee, so I quickly shot up and dashed for the door. My hands were iron around the handle as I tugged but with no luck, the door didn't even budge. The doors locked during the event of a patient escape, though if someone was in danger inside a locked room, the guards should be able to open it and let the person out.

There was a click followed by metal hitting the concrete floor. No... I couldn't be trapped in here with him without-

My legs reduced to a jelly state and I fell to the floor; I saw him now - taking off the handcuffs and rubbing his wrists. He stood up tall and I felt like I was going to faint as he slowly made his way across the room. It was like a beast eyeing up its prey as he scoured toward me, chuckling all the while. The man was well over six foot and I had a disadvantage just standing up, so I must have looked even more pathetic, strewn on the floor.

He very much seemed to enjoy it. "Little Harley, I guess it's just you and me, huh?"

My eyes grew large and they were fixed on him and he knelt down. I could easily kick him now, knock him over then leg it, albeit the door was locked so I wouldn't get very far. There was also the little part of my brain that didn't want to run, and made me sit a little straighter as his hand approached me.

The sound of my breathing got a little louder, though I was afraid he could still hear the thumping of my nervous heart in my chest. It was pointless to ask him not to kill me, I knew if he was going to do it me asking him not to would just push him on further.

His fingers fixed around my hair tie, and he thrust his hand back in order to violently rip it out of my hair. I screamed at the tug on my scalp but soon his hand was back there, ruffling my hair out of the position it had become comfortable in whilst tied back. The touching of my hair was nice I had to admit, though it was still carried with the fear that this was a very dangerous man performing that act.

"Don't you want to escape?" I murmured, feeling weak as ever.

He smirked. "Oh not just yet, I'd rather unwrap my presents before I go have Christmas dinner." he replied, showing me his slightly wonky and chipped teeth, several of which had been knocked out and replaced with caps once he got back to Arkham.

"Unwrap your..." I started, before it sunk in - I was the present, or at least one of them. He wasn't going to leave until he had finished with me.

He chuckled and got closer until I could really feel the bass vibration of the laugh. His hand snuck back around to the front of me, and somehow became snaked around my neck. I drew a sudden breath which caught in my throat.

It was slowly squeezing on my trachea and it all suddenly became real with me, my jaw dropping slightly. I wanted to lift my hands up and claw him away and yet I couldn't bring myself to raise them.

"Asking me about Batman, hmph that wasn't very smart, was it Harley baby?"

His other hand found the floor and he used it as leverage for him to lean closer over me and latch tighter on my neck. I whimpered.

At this point I was feeling kind of fuzzy, and there were black dots in front of my eyes. If I could see myself I knew I'd see that my face was drained of any colour, and that I was close to falling unconscious.

He saw this too, and stuck out his lip. "What's the matter, Harls? You're looking a little choked up."

My eyes widened and I felt hot tears spill onto my face. The tension on my neck was building but I managed to get some gurgling noise out of my voice box which was originally a laugh. He released his grip just slightly, enough for me to let my head loll backward and let out a slightly stronger laugh. In between I took in deep breaths, and he grinned as he looked down at me. His hand was removed altogether and my head hit the floor with a rather painful thump, as I was too lightheaded to resist it.

He chuckled and moved his hand to instead grab my face, whilst his body lowered once again to this time rest on top of mine. This had now changed from attempted murder to something else entirely.

My bottom lip flew open in surprise and soon enough he was upon it, crushing his mouth against mine in a very cruel kiss. He was the leader, but alas I still followed, letting him poke his tongue in any part of my mouth - something that would have been very unpleasant if it had been any other guy. I was angry at myself for liking it, and for wanting to do more though I couldn't say why. I hadn't really thought of him in that was before, unless my brain was hiding thoughts from me.

Teeth came down hard on my bottom lip and it wasn't long before I tasted blood. I cringed but it was like the blood just pushed him on further because everything - the kiss, the touch - became even rougher, if that was even possible.

He growled to himself as he pulled away, as if he really didn't want to stop. Neither did I, I had to admit, so I just stared up at him with a look of cluelessness.

"See that as your farewell kiss, daffy doctor." he murmured with a grin.

Quick for a man of his build he was off of me, and whistling through the door, which swung open for him. With a burst of laughter he shot off down the corridor, before his noise was muffled by the door closing.

I sat there in that cold room on my own, just trying to recollect what the hell just happened.


End file.
